The Tango Maureen
by Sandra Athrenael
Summary: Takes place almost a year before the musical begins. Mark Cohen always knew his life was far from perfect. He went from a rich Jewish boy living in Scarsdale to a struggling film maker in Alphabet City almost overnight. He and his friends struggle with


**The Tango Maureen**

-Chapter 1-**  
**

I sat at the overcrowded bar, humming to myself, polishing the lens of my camera yet again, monotonously scraping away any hint of dust left. The pulsating baseline was the only thing I could hear from the other side of the dance floor.

"Will you stop with the camera already?" I looked over to where Maureen was sitting-well, straddling-a barstool, causally stoking the arm of a well-built male bartender. I let out a small puff of air from my nose and help the camera up, winding the film back quickly.

"_January 23rd, 1988. 12:30 AM. Close on Maureen, 24 years old and already an expert in the art of attracting members of the opposite sex." _I narrated quietly to myself, watching as the male bartender leaned closer and whisper something into her ear. She giggled and slapped his arm lightly. Sighing, I got up and walked quickly towards the door.

I felt and a firm yank on my arm. "Pookie, wait!" I whirled around, my eyes wide, and there was Maureen pouting slightly, one hand on her hip. "Where are you going? It's not even one yet." She flashed me a smile and put her other hand around my waist. I stepped back jerkily, shielding my camera under one arm.

"I'm going home, Maureen." I said, defeated.

"Why? You never have fun when we go out. I always say, 'loosen up baby', but you never listen to me. Look, if you just feel the music a little-" She grabbed my waist and pulled me up against her, gyrating her hips quickly to the music.

I jumped back again. "Look, I just don't…dance…much, ok? I'm going home."

She laughed nervously. "Pookie…what's wrong? You're acting really weird." She glanced around the way she always does when she's hoping no one is looking at her.

"Um…can we talk somewhere else? It's kinda loud in here." She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Let me get my coat. I just need to…um…" She wandered off, still muttering quietly. I ducked through the crowd and burst out of the door, inhaling deeply. I raised my camera so it was parallel to my face, winding it back again.

"_Close on…well, close on me. I'm Mark. This is the story of…um…well; I guess you could say it's the story of my life, couldn't you? Like, a documentary, I guess. _(I paused for a very, very long time) _Fuck. That was pathetic."_ I shut off the camera just as Maureen came outside.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? That guy said he would give us free drinks."

I sighed. "No, Maureen. That guy said he would give _you_ free drinks."

"What? I would have given you one of my drinks. Hell, if they're free…" I shook my head, laughing bitterly. "Well, I'm here now…so talk." She crossed her arms and began tapping her foot.

"Never mind." I muttered, walking away. She ran after me, her hells clicking on the pavement.

"Pookie, you're overreacting. I was _doing_ anything with him, we were just talking! Come on, baby." I stopped and stared at her.

"Pookie? _Pookie?_ Why all of a sudden the pet name, Maureen?"

"I don't get what you're trying to say…"

"I'm saying that you don't call me Pookie unless you're guilty about something. You've done it before, Maureen; I'm not stupid." I closed my eyes for a second. "Look, I found a used condom in your bed the other day." She laughed.

"Marky, that was _ours_. Why are you getting all bent out of shape?" She moved to kiss me, but I pushed her away.

"Oh yeah? I don't remember the last time I bought glow in the dark condoms, Maureen, seriously! Who were you fucking? A twelve year old? No one has sex with their dick looking like it's been through some nuclear power plant!" Maureen glanced around nervously.

"Mark, you're yelling." She hissed, smiling briefly at a homeless man who was staring at us.

"Am I? I hadn't noticed!" I yelled, and turned on my heel abruptly, walking briskly back to the apartment. Once again Maureen caught up with me.

"Mark…Mark, stop walking." I turned to face her. "Ok, I know what I did was horrible, ok? But I promise it only happened once and I'll never do it again, I swear. It was totally the heat of the moment. And also, I thought you had broken up with me because of that fight we had the day before and-"

"Maureen." I spoke softly. "I'm not your kindergarten teacher, ok? Saying you promise to never do it again isn't going to change anything. I don't need excuses; we've been dating for almost a year now, alright? I don't know what to do with you anymore. With me, even! What am I supposed to do with myself when my girlfriend is sleeping around like some turbo slut? Wait until she's had her fun and then let her come back again?" I put my hand over my face. Maureen let out a tiny sob. "Oh please, I know that's fake." I muttered.

She stepped closer and put her arms around me, clinging onto my back and resting her head on my shoulder.

"But Mark…I love you." She whispered, kissing my neck lightly.

_Dammit._

"Let's go home." I said, sliding my hand into hers.

_This is how she plays her game, hurt me then love me, take me then leave me. And you know what? I fall for it. Every. Damn. Time._

* * *

-**the loft-**

"Roger?" I called into the pitch-black apartment. I switched on the table lamp and looked around. "Roger? You here?" I lifted up my camera.

"_Missing. Roommate: goes by the name of Roger."_

I tried again. "April? Either of you? I hope you're not having sex in my room again!" Maureen stifled a laugh. Suddenly the door shot open and Roger came in, April close behind him. I noticed right away how glazed their eyes were. Roger scratched his arm and cleared his throat.

"_Close on Roger." _I zoomed in on Roger's glassy eyes. _"And…April." _Pan out to fit both of them into the shot. April waved tiredly at the camera. _"Don't wave, it looks stupid. Roger: struggling artist-met April, his latest conquest, at a gig this spring. Haven't stopped fucking since." _Roger took off his jacket and flung it at me. I quickly shielded the camera.

"Hey! Watch the new equipment." I put the camera down on the table.

"When'd you get it?" Roger asked quietly.

"This morning. I'm thinking about making a documentary." He laughed.

"A documentary? Like those bullshit things you see about turtles on TV? You've got to be kidding."

"Not _that_ kind of documentary. Something about my life." I put a hand to imitate a marquee. "You know, like, the struggles of an undiscovered artist." He wasn't buying it. "Fine, something meaningful, alright?"

"Whatever." He sat down on the couch and picked up his guitar. He laughed again. "Yeah so good luck with that, man…a documentary…god…" April got a bottle of vodka and brought it over with her.

"Well, if you don't believe me, then get out of my apartment. Why should I let you live here if you don't even support my work, huh?"

"_Your_ aparment? Excuse me but I believe both of us inhabit this architectural gift to Alphabet City." He scoffed and looked around.

I shook my head, laughing. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think to legally call an aparment "yours" you have to at least pay _part _of the rent." Roger stopped strumming on his guitar and a serious expression washed over his face. He spoke softly.

"Hey. I'm trying, ok? When my new gig opens Ill pay you back. If you kick me out of here, I'm screwed." Suddenly his face lit up again. "Speaking of screwing…why was there a glow in the dark condom in your bed? Mark, that's disgusting I hope you know."

I suddenly became transfixed with my shoelace, blood rushing to my cheeks. "It wasn't mine." I murmured inaudibly.

"What?"

"It wasn't mine!" I yelled, surprising myself. Roger raised one eyebrow and chuckled.

"Oh…"

"Why were you in my room anyway?" I asked, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible. Roger glanced at April, who was giggling silently, her eyes closed and her head resting against the arm of the couch.

"Um…no reason." He laughed, strumming a few more cords. "Where are Collins and Benny? Are they _ever _here?" I sighed, taking a long sip of the vodka and shaking my head.

"Collins said he would be out until next week, he's staying in an MIT dorm to catch up on some work I think, and Benny…he's…actually, I have no idea where the fuck Benny is…" Roger chuckled again.

"Probably drawing up more plans for 'Cyber Arts'. I swear that guy would kill people if he had to just to get the studio finished." I nodded and took another swig of vodka. Maureen came and sat down next to me, running her hand up my inner thigh. I jumped slightly and choked, my mouth still full of alcohol.

"Wanna go to bed?" She whispered into my ear. I wiped my mouth.

"Sure." I got up and followed Maureen into the bedroom, grabbing my camera. "If Benny comes back, tell him that Collins left his share of the rent money on the dresser, and that he needs to give it to what's-her-face before the first of February." I called into the other room. Roger grunted in reply. I held my camera up one last time for the night.

"_Close on roommates-Roger: slightly high with April in the living room. Benny: Gone to finish his amazing creation. Collins: rewiring computers at MIT. Mark? About to have one of the best nights of his life." I faded out on Maureen's face, laughing as she dragged me into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her._

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A/n: Ok so that's what I have so far. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. The next chapters will have more of Mark's thoughts and feelings, I promise. I just wanted to set the mood with this one.

Happy reviewing!


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